Last Night
by Avarice
Summary: Egoist. Nowaki's last night and morning with Hiroki before he leaves for America.


_In re-watching the Egoist eps of JR, I read the letter that Hiroki opened after he first found Nowaki's secret stash of correspondence and it made mention of Nowaki taking a photo of the sleeping Hiroki to keep him sane. This fic evolved from that. I also try and hopefully explain how Nowaki could get away with completely leaving the country without Hiroki knowing about it, and what their behaviour might've been on that night. _

_This fic was knocked out last night. Have done my best to proof but it's essentially unbetaed. If you should find any errors please don't hesitate to let me know. Also, constructive criticism/feedback is always welcome. _

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**Last Night**

**A Junjou Egoist fic by Avarice**

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Nowaki couldn't sleep.

He lay flat on his back in bed, ankles poking off the edge, mind hurriedly rushing through all manner of information.

The med student's flight departed for the United States at eleven a.m. tomorrow, heading through to New York via Los Angeles. His bag - with surprising few possessions - was packed and waiting for him at his apartment, his visa and tickets were all in order. His passport was a novelty to say the least. It sported a photo that was largely unflattering due to him towering over the photographer. Nowaki had been mildly shocked to see it, but the woman assured him that no one _ever_ looked decent in a passport photograph.

Arrangements were in place for the university he would be studying at. Los Angeles would play host to him for a month, but the real work would be done in New York City, where he would be studying. His program also allowed for volunteering at a number of large metropolitan hospitals for extra credit.

Given he'd just come off his last shift and didn't even have a day to recover before the long flight, Nowaki was more than aware of how much rest was important to his well-being. Add to that, with airport security measures in place he had to be at the airport three hours earlier than his departure time. Before _that_, he had to get back to his apartment and collect his bag.

Nowaki could've brought his suitcase to Hiroki's and left straight from there, but he didn't want to bring that reminder of his leaving into this place, intruding on what would be his last night in Japan for quite a while. Besides, with the amount of books stacked just about everywhere, he probably wouldn't have been able to get it in the door.

With all these things circling his mind, Nowaki did his best to slow his breathing and just relax.

It was a plan doomed to failure, and Nowaki found himself mentally replaying the events of the evening.

The pair of them had had a quiet, ordinary night. They had both studied until dinner, which had been a rare treat; takeout. After eating and disposing of the paper boxes and plastic utensils, there had been some blissfully quiet moments watching television together. Hiroki started at one end of the sofa and Nowaki at the other, but they performed a complicated little dance of not looking like they were purposely drawing closer together, until somehow Nowaki had his arm behind Hiroki's head, Hiroki flush against his chest.

When the distraction of Hiroki's nearness proved too much for Nowaki, they retired to the bedroom to continue more amorous pursuits into the late evening.

It was a night of domesticity that Nowaki could carry in his memory to America.

Nowaki turned his face to watch Hiroki slumber.

The curtains framing the high window in Hiroki's book-cluttered bedroom had been left open, allowing a full moon to bathe the literature student in its soft, white light. It wasn't strong illumination, but it was enough to highlight Hiroki's patrician nose, his high cheekbones, the fall of dark hair, curve of a pale shoulder.

Hiroki had turned in his sleep, and uncharacteristically faced Nowaki's favoured side of the bed. A hand was loosely curled under his chin, pushing it up and giving Hiroki just the slightest pout in sleep. And as always, the lines that continuously marred his brow were absent in slumber.

Nowaki's heart skipped a few precious beats, and it was all he could to do not throw his study plans squarely in the trash and stay.

Nowaki looked back to the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut, breathing coming in quicker gasps as he panicked. He could continue his study in Japan; it certainly wasn't a requirement to go overseas, which had just been an opportunity that presented itself. Why the hell was he leaving in the first place?

Well... the American offer was highly attractive due to the world-class nature of the university he'd been offered time in...

And if he _didn't_ go, it wasn't as though he could get the money for his plane tickets and visa back...

_Also_ the reputation of his instructor who had suggested the program and supported Nowaki's bid for it could suffer if he pulled out...

Nowaki's breathing slowed as he thought of the very last and completely important reason not to pull out of his plans; Hiroki had told him not to.

_Dreams exist to be realised_.

In point of fact, Nowaki had many dreams that he was determined to realise: To care for children, to give back to the Kusama orphanage, to become a professional, to have the means to be an equal partner in his relationship with Hiroki Kamijou, to name but a few.

Hiroki's words resounded in his head and heart, and Nowaki knew his course of action was true.

He had already tentatively broached the subject of doing more work than was required each week in the hopes that the program could potentially finish earlier than the standard two years. The idea had not been poorly received, although the details would probably take some ironing out.

It could mean he didn't get any days off, but speaking as kid who'd held up to six jobs at once, he was more than used to hard work with very little rest.

Besides, if there were anything he could do to slingshot his return to Japan sooner, he'd do it without hesitation.

Nowaki turned back to Hiroki and his breath hitched in his throat at the heavenly vision before him. The man was just so striking. The med student thought that Hiroki had a little inkling of how attractive he was, and wasn't without a certain amount of vanity, but Nowaki firmly believed that Hiroki couldn't comprehend the full scope of his beauty.

It was up to Nowaki to try and prove it on a daily - and sometimes hourly - basis.

Nowaki stared at Hiroki intently, trying to burn the image of his sleeping lover into his retina permanently, before he had an idea.

Doing his best not to disturb the mattress, Nowaki pushed himself up onto his elbows and turned towards the bedside. Taking his phone off the nightstand, he carefully flipped it open and engaged the camera.

His thumb pressed the button, but Nowaki froze as the loud artificial shutter sound cut through the silence, the harsh flash dispelling the darkness momentarily. Nowaki uttered a silent prayer that those two things wouldn't disturb Hiroki, and thankfully, someone was listening to him.

Nowaki squinted at the tiny screen, finding a perfect image of Hiroki there. With the flash it wasn't as nice as he looked bathed in moonlight, but a photograph could so rarely hold a candle to the real thing anyway. Making sure to save the photo before closing his phone and putting it down, Nowaki boldly pushed a few tendrils of brown hair away from Hiroki's forehead.

Ever so carefully, he leant forward and brushed the lightest of kisses across Hiroki's brow. "I love you, Hiro-san," he whispered in a tone he reserved solely for the man before him. Hiroki stirred for a moment, a crease rippling above his eyebrows for a moment, before disappearing. Hiroki exhaled, and Nowaki imagined that to be his lover's reciprocation.

Finally satisfied, Nowaki settled back down on the mattress. He stretched his hand out to be as close to Hiroki's hand as he could without touching and potentially disturbing the other man, and closed his eyes.

* * *

It could never be said that Hiroki was particularly cheerful of a morning, but the argument could be made for the fact that many nights with Nowaki were not necessarily spent in the pursuit of a good night's sleep.

Nerves had Nowaki wide awake nearly two hours before Hiroki finally shuffled out of his bedroom. Nowaki was able to push aside his misgivings momentarily to take pleasure in Hiroki's effortless grace. He wore a t-shirt and a collared button-up shirt over the top, with soft, worn-in blue jeans and socks.

Hiroki flicked his eyes up and nodded to Nowaki around a huge yawn. "You've made breakfast already," he commented in lieu of a greeting.

"Good morning, Hiro-san," Nowaki replied, hands clenched in front of him.

Hiroki slid into his customary seat at the table, and Nowaki placed a rolled omelette and a bowl of miso soup in front of him. Nowaki retrieved his own breakfast, as well as a bowl of steamed rice to share and placed the dishes on the table.

Hiroki took a bite out of the omelette and chewed. "It's good," he said, which Nowaki had come to learn meant "Thank you".

"I'm glad you like it," Nowaki responded, serving himself some rice.

Breakfast was conducted mostly in silence, as Hiroki ate and flicked through a book of poetry he'd been using in his thesis. Nowaki ached to talk about what troubled him; his reticence about flying, his worry that he wouldn't be able to keep up speaking and understanding English (though he'd had the very best teacher), and how much he was desperately going to miss Hiroki... but those words lodged in his throat and wouldn't come out.

In a way, he didn't want to speak of those things, he wanted to take the memory of a perfectly normal breakfast with him, to go with his perfectly normal night, and hold it in his heart. It would be the last one they would share for quite some time.

That thought made Nowaki inhale at the wrong moment, and a piece of omelette went down the wrong pipe. He coughed a little, banging his chest. Hiroki looked up from his book in mild alarm, but saw everything was quite all right.

"_Do_ chew before you swallow, won't you?" he said, customary irritated expression in place. Long artistic fingers pushing a glass of water in his direction softened the words, however.

Nowaki gulped some of the liquid down, and gave Hiroki a watery smile. "I'll try to remember that," he said, and the quaver in his voice wouldn't seem out of place from someone who'd nearly almost choked. Hiroki rolled his eyes and went back to his book.

Chewing deliberately, Nowaki gazed at Hiroki with melancholy. He had been on the verge a dozen times of asking the literature student to accompany him to the airport, but had held off at the last. Being the middle of the week, Hiroki invariably had class and was loathe to ever miss one, no matter the reason. Besides, he'd probably expect Nowaki to have some big, public display of affection at the gate before he boarded, embarrassing the older man thoroughly.

And that was a problem.

Nowaki doubted he'd be able to hold back from doing so, and the last thing he wanted to do was anger Hiroki right before he left and depart on a sour note. And while the image of Hiroki standing forlornly at the window waving away his plane appealed to the diehard romantic in him, the reality of that situation seemed too upsetting in actuality to contemplate.

Hiroki finished eating and casually picked up his and Nowaki's plates, taking them to the sink.

"I'm leaving for class now," he said as he used the scourer. "Are you going to lock up?"

"Uh, I'm leaving now, as well."

"Early," Hiroki commented, squirting a bit of dishwashing liquid on the plate. "Big week, huh?"

Nowaki blinked slowly. "You could say that."

Hiroki put the plates in the strainer and wiped his wet hands on a dishcloth. Nowaki looked at him anxiously. He hadn't been expecting an overt, public display, or even a big, tearful goodbye in the privacy of the apartment, but... His shoulders bowed a little. He expected a little more than _this_.

"Well, good luck, then," Hiroki said, throwing the dishcloth over the plates and ducking his head slightly.

There it was. The breathy 'I just said something aloud that means I like you' tone, the faint touch of embarrassment hitting his cheeks. It wasn't much, but it was just enough.

Nowaki took four long strides and brought himself toe to toe with Hiroki. He cupped the shorter man's face in his hands and kissed him, trying to imbue their connection with as much love as he possibly could.

Hiroki let the kiss happen for a long moment that stretched out like magic, before he remembered he should've been outraged and pushed Nowaki away at the waist. Nowaki allowed their connection via their lips to be severed, but didn't take his hands away from framing Hiroki's face.

"What the hell was that?" Hiroki fumed.

Nowaki smiled at his grouchy, irascible partner. "It was a 'goodbye', Hiro-san," he said softly, flicking one of those brown locks away from Hiroki's forehead.

Hiroki muttered something under his breath, eyes lowering.

"What did you say?" Nowaki asked.

Hiroki look chagrined to have to repeat himself. "I said: It's not like you're going away forever."

The medical student gave Hiroki the best smile he could muster under the circumstances. "Of course not. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Hiroki gently pulled his face out of Nowaki's hands, but hadn't let his own drop away from Nowaki's waist. "I may have changed the locks," Hiroki said in a low voice; a real threat that had evolved into a private joke over the last few years.

Nowaki smiled beatifically, and pressed a short, but infinitely sweet kiss to Hiroki's pouting mouth. "Probably not, though."

This time, Hiroki uncurled his fingers from Nowaki's shirt. "Probably not," he admitted. Hiroki's eyes flitted to the wall clock and he cursed. "Shit, I have to get going." He moved around the apartment, stuffing the book of poetry and his reading glasses into his satchel.

"You _will_ remember to lock up, won't you?" Hiroki asked again, running a hand through his messy hair.

Nowaki swallowed the lump in his throat. "Of course."

Hiroki gave him one last quick glance as he slipped his shoes on, mumbled a goodbye, and was gone.

Nowaki slumped dramatically after the exit. Maybe it was just as well they had departed on such normal terms. In fact, perhaps Hiroki had _also_ needed that normalcy so he wouldn't get too overwhelmed. That seemed to fit; the literature student's incredibly acerbic exterior hid a heart that was easily bruised. He needed only think of their very first meeting to be reminded of that.

Gathering his things and making sure he hadn't left a mess, Nowaki began the solo journey back to his own apartment, and then the airport. On the train, he flipped open his phone and pulled up the photo he'd taken the night before of the sleeping Hiroki. His heart simultaneously ached and soared. His thumb brushed the screen, tracing the contours of his sleeping love.

It was so hard to go, but leaving would just make his return all the sweeter.

~fin


End file.
